


Sens de la vie

by feathered_minds



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Fluff, M/M, More of a headcanon type of thing hence why it’s so short, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 18:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathered_minds/pseuds/feathered_minds
Summary: It's Eliott's birthday, and the only thing he needs is Lucas.





	Sens de la vie

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny ficlet/headcanon in honor of Eliott's (supposed) birthday!  
> As the title reveals, this was inspired by one of his instagram posts (I'm sure you know the one).
> 
> tumblr: @feathered-minds  
> ______

Eliott couldn’t help but shiver in unease whenever he recollected the state he had been in on this day a year ago. He had spent his birthday pent up in his bedroom, alternating between dwelling in the gloom and trying to bring himself out of it, uselessly hoping that the company of rolled joints and cheap beer would keep the loneliness away from him.

It had all come rushing back to him with full force when Lucas asked him one lazy Sunday morning, in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, what he wanted to do on his _special day._ Consequently, he had told him that he didn’t need anything but the presence of the other, an answer that Lucas simply wouldn’t accept. He had insisted on them doing something out of the ordinary, because according to Lucas, there was no longer anything remotely ordinary about the 25th of June. _Without the 25th of June, you wouldn’t be here,_ he had said. _Of course we have to celebrate._

Eliott had melted at that, something inside of him aching a little at the sentiment. He had been left dumbstruck by Lucas’s words, his only response having been to let his touch try to convey the things his voice couldn’t. 

Now, he stands beside the boy with the messy hair and the glowing eyes in a room full of elegant strangers, their gazes having travelled across sculptures and paintings and installations. The day has been full of exploring, mocking, appreciating the pieces of art surrounding them; the palpable fragments of people unknown on display for the world to see. Eliott’s cheeks and stomach hurt from all the bellowing laughter that had escaped him when Lucas made up stories for some of the pieces, sometimes acting them out, much to the other visitors’ dismay. The fact that they haven’t been kicked out yet is baffling, but Eliott is thankful all the more.

As they make their way through a dimly lit hallway, Eliott’s gaze eventually lands on the wall to Lucas’s left, his eyes catching onto something as they almost pass it by. Printed on the dark coloured surface is _the meaning of life_ , letters bright and blinding against the somber background. The quote is accompanied by an arrow, seemingly a guide to another exhibit they have yet to see. Eliott doesn’t think twice before he exclaims a quick “Stop!” at Lucas, possibly a bit too loudly for their surroundings. Lucas does so, his words falling silent mid-sentence, confusion written all over his features as he turns his body toward Eliott. 

“Stay right there”, Eliott says eagerly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve his phone. He raises it to be level with Lucas, who chuckles and says,

“What are you doing?” as he shakes his head in what Eliott recognizes as fond exasperation at his incessant need to document their moments at the strangest of times. 

“I’m taking a picture”, he explains, a slight lilt in his voice masking the weight of his emotions as he sees the arrow point to Lucas. “Don’t move.”

Lucas follows the instruction and stands still while Eliott shifts around until he’s satisfied with the angle, finally snapping one or two (fourteen) frames. With a content smile, he settles the phone back into his pocket, his gaze resting comfortably on the boy in front of him. Adoration and wonder overwhelm him with their warmth as he takes in the sight of Lucas; his whirlwind of hair a good match for the beautiful chaos of cobalt that lives in his eyes. He revels as crimson finds its way to Lucas's cheeks, the plush of his lips already painted by its cherry relative. Eliott catches Lucas mirroring the awed look before he tries to conceal it with mischief and mock suspicion, letting out a quiet _what_ as a crooked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“You’ll see”, Eliott teases then as he inches closer, his arms finding their way home around Lucas’s neck. His lips search Lucas's for a kiss far too entrancing in the public space, the heat of their mouths connecting making the air-conditioned room seem less chilly. Eliott feels gentle arms snaking around his waist, the fabric of his shirt bunching up slightly as fingers curl into it and the distance closes. When the kiss is reluctantly broken, Eliott lets their foreheads fall to rest against each other as their breaths mingle, words unspoken pouring out into the small space between them. A few beats go by before a whisper of Lucas’s voice finds Eliott’s ears, wishing him a happy birthday.

And there, in the hallway of a museum in the middle of Paris, Eliott finds himself thanking the darkness that lead him here, to this very moment, as they steer their steps toward _the meaning of life_.


End file.
